


Haunting

by killerweasel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:44:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerweasel/pseuds/killerweasel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good news can come from unexpected sources.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunting

Title: Haunting  
Fandom: _Sherlock_  
Characters: John Watson, Jim Moriarty  
Word Count: 1,213  
Rating: PG-13  
A/N: AU after _The Reichenbach Fall_  
Warnings: mentions of character death, suicide  
Summary: Good news can come from unexpected sources.

John turned around from the stove and found Jim Moriarty standing in the kitchen. The plate of food fell from John’s hand. He winced at the sound of shattering ceramic. It had been almost a year since he’d seen the consulting criminal. He had to say, the man looked worse for wear. It took him a moment to realize the discoloration on Moriarty’s suit was from blood. It took him slightly longer to discover he could see through the man in front of him.

He closed his eyes and counted to five. When he opened them again, Moriarty was still there. The other man smiled at him. “You’re looking rather well, Doctor Watson.”

“I can’t say the same about you, Moriarty.” John glanced down at the mess on the floor. “You can’t be here to haunt me because I didn’t even know you were dead.”

“I’m just visiting.” Moriarty turned around slowly and as he did, John caught a glimpse of a hole in the back of his head. The back of the man’s suit was splattered with blood and bits of gore. “I’m not surprised they didn’t mention my death. Only a select few know what happened.”

“How long have you been dead?”

“I’d say about eight minutes before Sherlock threw himself off the roof.” Moriarty scratched his ear, made a face as he found a bit something caught behind it, and then flicked the bit of whatever it was towards John. It vanished before it reached him. “Being dead is almost as boring as being alive.”

John stepped around the remains of his breakfast, closing the distance between them. “Can I get a better look at...?” He gestured to the back of his own head.

“You want to know if he was the one who killed me, don’t you?” Moriarty laughed. “Sure.” He turned again and then held still while John inspected the wound.

It was odd studying an injury while being able to seeing through the victim’s head. The wound was clearly self-inflicted. Moriarty would have died in minutes. “You did this to yourself.” Moriarty nodded. “If you were already dead, then why did Sherlock jump from the roof? That makes no sense.”

“Well... I might have told him that if he didn’t jump, all of his friends were going to die.” Moriarty shuddered as John’s fist went through his face. “He should have realized it was a lie. I didn’t even say which friends. He’s the one who supplied the names; I just agreed with whomever he said. I stopped at three because more than that seemed a bit much even for me.”

John’s arm was tingling all the way up to his elbow. “You killed yourself and then you still managed to kill him. What a perfect ending for your little game. You’re a monster.”

Moriarty held up a hand. “I didn’t do anything. Sherlock made a choice. Think about it for a moment. I wasn’t the one who set up the meeting place. That was his idea. He had time to make arrangements.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” John wondered if it was possible to throw a ghost out of a flat.

“You saw him fall, correct? You watched the whole thing, never took your eyes off of him?”

“I...” John frowned. “I got hit by someone on a bicycle. By the time I got up, Sherlock was on the ground. There was so much blood and then they took him into the hospital. They wouldn’t let me in until after they treated my injuries. I tried to get into his room, but they wouldn’t allow me to go through the door.”

“So you only saw him on the ground? You never saw the impact?” John shook his head. “Ah. I have to assume they didn’t let you see the body afterwards either?”

“Mycroft took care of all of that. It was a closed coffin at a private ceremony.” John blinked. “What exactly are you saying? Sherlock’s dead. He jumped off of the bloody roof. He did it to save us.”

“Doctor Watson, you have the ghost of someone you don’t even like, maybe even hate, chatting with you in the middle of your kitchen right now.” Moriarty tried to lean against the wall and started to sink through it. Muttering to himself, he straightened back up again. “Don’t you think that your friend would have dropped by at least once if he were dead?”

For a very brief moment, John thought his legs were going to give out. The kitchen swirled in and out of focus. If what Moriarty was saying was correct, Sherlock wasn’t dead. Not only wasn’t he dead, but he’d been alive for the last ten months without bothering to inform John he was still among the living. “No. That’s not possible. He’s dead.”

“Who do you think sent me here?”

This time John’s legs did buckle. He found himself on the floor next to the shattered remains of his breakfast. Moriarty crouched down in front of him. “He’s on a rather foolish quest, Doctor. For some reason he got it in his head that he needed to dismantle my empire in order to continue to protect you and everyone else. I’ve tried to tell him it doesn’t work that way. I had one loyal person in my employ, just one man that I trusted with everything. Sebastian Moran was my right hand. The rest of them only followed me because they were scared. They don’t even know I’m dead so why on earth would they be out for revenge? Hell, most of them don’t even know what I look like. I’m the faceless monster in the darkness.”

“You’ve seen him.” John clutched his head in his hands and worked on getting his breathing back under control. “That’s who you’ve been haunting, isn’t it? It has to be far less boring than haunting someone like me.”

“I wouldn’t call it haunting. I’ve been keeping him company. Sherlock is still one of the least boring people I’ve ever met.” When Moriarty tried to touch John’s shoulder, his hand passed right through it. “He told me to come see you and stop bothering him for a change.”

“Where is he?”

“He was in Paris last week.” Moriarty stood up. “I have to check in on Sebastian and make sure he took care of a few loose ends for me. I also want to see my grave. I was supposed to end up in the family plot, provided Sebastian managed to get his hands on my body.”

“When is he going to come back?” John stood up slowly, bracing his hand on the wall. “Do you have any idea?”

“Maybe you should ask his brother.” Moriarty vanished and the reappeared with a frown. “I really have to go. I don’t usually stay visible for this long.”

“Thank you.” John gave Moriarty a very small smile. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“He said that I owed him for the fall. I don’t like owing anyone anything.” Moriarty’s body started to vanish. “It was a great game, Doctor. It really was.”

John shook his head. With a laugh, he grabbed the broom and started to clean up the mess on the floor. Sherlock was alive.


End file.
